


kindly stopped for me

by badAquatic, orphan_account



Series: Trailerstuck [58]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Discussion of Rape, F/M, M/M, Pregnancy, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:17:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2058948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jade has an announcement about her grandfather's funeral and Karkat goes on his first assignment with the Trussian mafia.</p><p>Takes place after 'rippling outward'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. moving forward

==> **Karkat: Make some progress**

 

The next week blazes by with incremental change. It becomes wetter and windier. Umbrellas (as always) are useless. Everyone wears ponchos in various colors and sizes when braving the dangerously wet weather. The power is constantly flickering on and off in the neighborhood during the mild storms. Your Saturdays are consumed with learning ‘the business’ from Sergei and practicing Trussian and Modern Alternian. Trussian is the easier one. On Sunday, you’re all over the place: reading legal documents, planning with Rufioh, and speaking with lawyers in downtown offices.

Sundays are quickly becoming more tiring than Mondays.

Another concern is that it’ll be Dave’s birthday in two weeks and you still don’t know what to give him. When you’re not pondering this, you practice Trussian and Modern Alternian with Dirk.

“How many languages do you speak?” you ask one day.

“Too many.” Dirk says with a far off look in his eyes.

“If I’m bothering you, I can come back later.” You say.

Dirk gives you a strained smile. “Its not you. Its me, as usual.” He touches a frayed patch on his jeans and toys with the threads. “In Leder, there is an expression ‘Do not pick at worried seams’, which means ‘Don’t open up cans of worms even if you see it’. Well. Cans of worms are sometimes hard to ignore.”

You have no fucking clue what he’s talking about. You just give him space. Everyone is reacting to Grandpa Harley’s murder in their own way. No one idly walks around the neighborhood anymore. Blustery or sunny, everyone is shut inside their house.

Dave buries himself in work. Jake taxidermies more animals and practices shooting cans. Jade is still…off. There’s a thin ray of hope that she’ll turn back to little miss bubbly science know-it-all but for now there’s a thick cloudy gloom surrounding her. When she’s not sleeping or eating she’s on the phone bitching out bureaucrats and chasing down relatives. Her fashion choices are also going southward and not just because of the expanding waistline. These days its pajama pants, T-shirts, and headscarves. Dave and you assume terrible fashion choices are just another part of the mourning process.

Best not to pick at worried seams.

The third Friday in October, Jade has an announcement over dinner while you’re watching Food Court Kings.

“I was finally able to get in contact with my maternal cousins.” She won’t say _my mother’s family_ because her mother is the reason she’s making funeral arrangements. “I managed to speak with my uncle Johan Crocker. My grandmother Betty Crocker the Sixth wants to have Grandpa’s body flown to Young Britain and stuffed so he can be in the corporate museum.” She sees the look Dave and you are giving her. “Its just how they do things there.”

“Stuffed…?” you mutter.

“Young British aristocrats are stuffed and placed in the halls of their ancestral homes.” Jade says, “Uncle Johan said in his house there are generations of Crockers sitting in the parlor as they had for centuries.”

 _If Joan grew up in that environment no wonder she went crazy_ , you think but make sure to keep your thoughts to yourself. This is the first time Jade’s looked optimistic.

“Yeah, but you said corporate museum.” Dave says, “He’s going to be on display for a couple of pounds or quid or whatever they use over there. Don’t you find that a _little_ fucked up?”

“It’s a different culture, Dave,” Jade sighs, “Corporations are very important in Young Britain. To be displayed in the corporate museum post-mortem is considered a high honor. Only the most important corporate aristocrats are allowed to be featured in the museum of company history.”

“Its still weird thinking that people are going to be paying to see…uh…” Dave mutters.

“Where’s he going to be displayed? I thought your grandfather’s companies went under?” You ask. Dave shoots you a thankful look for changing the subject.

“My grandparents are… _were_ bankers but they had other assets.” Jade says, “From what Uncle Johan told me, it wasn’t just Jake’s drug habit that ruined things. The economy in Young Britain wasn’t doing so well at the time and a lot of corps were being downsized or liquidated. That was part of the reason Jake started doing burglaries. _Everyone_ was being strained for cash. Grandpa tried to sell off property and stock he owned in the economic depression but Jake’s addiction had caused a lot of strain between Grandpa and the other corporate heads.”

“So in order to turn a profit on anything he had to undersell but that wasn’t enough to break even.” Dave says. Jade and you stare at and he huffs, “What? I watch _and understand_ financial news.”

“When Jake was arrested everything came apart.” Jade continues, “Grandpa and Grandma spent a lot of money getting lawyers to keep Jake to stay out of prison _and_ to keep the whole thing out of the papers. The second part was the most costly because papers earn most of their money on the embarrassing aristocrats antics. By the time Jake was in rehab, Grandpa was a widow and he didn’t have enough assets left to afford the domes. After I was born Grandpa decided to leave the country. He told Betty Crocker that he didn’t want to remain in Young Britain as a disgrace, so she sent him on a Crockercorp ship to New Jack City and said he’d always have a job at her company. Grandpa would’ve had a higher position at the factory he worked at but Jake had robbed some of the Crockercorp board members so…”

“So he was stuck in a dead end job because someone had a grudge.” you say.

“Well, Jake did mug a _lot_ of people and it wasn’t _all_ bad. Crockercorp bought all of grandpa’s assets and turned his ancestral family manor into a museum and five-star hotel. Its one of the top tourist spots in Young Britain now. They even have Grandma on display and a mannequin of Jake. They want Grandpa to be there to complete the set and _it’s a_ _high honor, Dave_.”

She insists that last part because Dave looks horrified by the idea of taxidermied corpses on display for edutainment, like the stuffed bears and caveman models at the New Jack Museum.

“So who’s coming to the wake?” Dave asks, quickly changing the topic.

“My Uncle Johan is brokering a business deal in Indie so he can’t,” Jade says, “but he’s sending my cousin Ruby Crocker and I’m sure she’ll bring her bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?” you ask.

“Well, this is New Jack City and she’s on Crockercorp’s board of directors. She could be a target for all kinds of things.”

“She’s on the board and she’s _how_ old?” Dave asks.

“I think Uncle Johan said she was my age, so maybe eighteen. In Young British aristocracy, you’re expected to be involved in the family company by sixteen. Most traditional Young British sweet sixteens include giving stock options and having them inducted into the company’s board of directors though they don’t acquire board voting rights until they turn twenty-one. Usually it’s the youth who do mediocre tasks, like attending benefit galas, ribbon cuttings, community fundraisers, and so on.”

“So it’s like interning but you work for your family.” you snort.

“Basically.” Jade says. “We’re thinking about holding the wake next Saturday morning. Ruby is going to arrive at New Jack Waterport early in the morning _and you have to be polite._ ” She must see the look on Dave’s face.

“Damn. I was thinking about telling them how in sixth grade we went on that ECOS trip and Tavros and you got a jelly jar of lake water and _forgot about it_ in the science lab equipment cabinet until the end of the year and Sollux made the mistake of _opening_ _it_.”

“Oh my gods. _The smell_.” You wince, remembering the rotten-egg odor flooding the science lab. “It was in everything and then Jade _chucked that mess out the fucking window._ ”

“It was _gross_ and Tavros kept trying to show me it! Of course I chucked it out the window.”

“And then the school was infested with cockroaches for the entire summer and they had to shut down part of the building.” You say.

“The point is we’re not telling any weird, gross, or embarrassing stories.” Jade says.

“I have to tell _one_ embarrassing story.” Dave says.

“Why?” Jade groans.

Dave smiles. “Because I love you.”

“Can we tell them about that time in fourth grade where we did the butterfly egg incubation for science class but then a crow broke in and ate the caterpillars so we just kept the crow as the class pet because he was more interesting and the teacher didn’t care?” Karkat says.

“I miss Supercrow…” Dave sighs.

“Well, we could tell them _that_ story as long as we leave out the ending where they had to put down Supercrow because he contracted bird flu.” Jade sighs. “Anyway, we have to get the trailer ready for guests.”

“What’s wrong with the way it is?” Dave asks.

“He says, ignoring the fact that the back lawn hasn’t been mowed since August and we haven’t vacuumed or cleaned since Karkat’s party.” Jade says, “We’re having people over for the wake and selling whatever’s in Grandpa’s storage unit. I was hoping I could go there tomorrow and sort through whatever is there.”

“I’m going to be busy all day. There’s a convention this weekend so we’re packed with customers. _And_ I’m going to Futureworks to see who’s hiring for the holiday season.” Dave says.

“I can go with you,” you say, “I’m not working until evening tomorrow so I have the morning free. My Sundays are full though.”

“You mean your Sundays with Rufioh?” Dave snorts.

“It’s not what you think. We’re just good friends.”

“That’s what worries me. I’m fine with you hovering around other trolls for sex for your heat cycle but you going over there all the time is weird.”

“He’s teaching me about farming and how to deal with the poor soil in New Jack City. We’re also assembling hydroponic farms and trying to figure out other ways to deal with the rent hike. We only have two months left.”

“Rufioh doesn’t have a kismesis though.”

“Rufioh is _way_ too easy-going to hate anyone like that.” Jade says.

“What about Gamzee?” you ask.

“That’s a mutual dislike. In order to be properly caliginous, you have to care about the person by at least one tiny iota. Gamzee and Rufioh just dislike each other and are only in each other’s space because they love Tavros.” Jade smirks. “Its going to be _hilarious_ if their kid is purple.”

“Even if they’re not purple, they’ll still act like their Dad.” Dave says, implying Gamzee’s questionable mental state.

“That’s true. I’m worried about mine.” You say, “I don’t have a very good mental health history on either side of my family. I’m not worried about the egg with Terezi but Vriska. Ceruleans are… _unpredictable_.”

“What about Sollux and Eridan’s?” Jade asks.

“They’ll just be a huge dick.” Dave says.

“Agreed.” You say. “Who’s going to tell Jake and Dirk about your relatives coming here next Saturday?”

“Not it.” Dave says.

“Not it.” Jade says.

“How can you be ‘not it’? This is your idea!” Dave says.

“And they’re _your_ parents. Jake’s still gloomy and Dirk hates parties and crowds.” Jade says.

“I’m not going to explain to Dirk why a bunch of strangers are in his house. You have any idea how anal retentive he gets about having strangers over?”

“Probably why Jake likes him so much.” Dave elbows you in the ribs for saying that. “Ow! I was just making an observation!”

“You think I _like_ talking to Dirk about this? Its super awkward!”

“Oh my fucking gods. _I_ will tell him if you two stop bickering.” You groan.

Both Dave and Jade insist that its alright but don’t stop you from going upstairs.

 

* * *

 

 

Early Saturday morning you leave the mobilehive with Jade and head downtown to Riggin Road. You take the truck in case you have to haul something back. You hate driving this beast but it’s the only transportation you have, besides borrowing Kankri’s car.

“I really expected Dave to argue more about my relatives visiting.” Jade says on the drive there. This time she’s wearing a knit hat with Honeydew Sun-Ink on it. (Fuck, did you just recognize a Squiddle by color? It really is an infectious show.)

“I did too but I guess he knows arguing isn’t a good idea.” you say, “This is a funeral and the point is to make amends.”

That and Dave and you both noticed Jade hasn’t cried since her grandfather’s death. She didn’t even shed a tear at the body. Sometimes you catch her just staring into space. Neither Dave nor you want to force the situation even though you’re both worried about her mental health. She’s not even in your quadrants and you’re a little concerned.

“I guess so,” Jade sighs, “I just wonder if I’m doing this for the right reasons.”

“Its not wrong to want closure. I was curious about my father after I found out about him. I’m learning Modern Alternian now.” You have your grandfather’s memories but around the time he arrives on New Earth, things become spotty and confusing. You already know the cause of the confusion as your father’s addiction.

“I guess I just want to see what they’re like. I read up on Young British culture but I still don’t think I have a good grasp of what Grandpa and Jake lived with.” She frowns. “Do you think they’re all like… _her_? It is… _her…_ family.”

There’s a look on her face you can’t describe and you realize a half-second later that its pain. You roll your eyes and try to sound confidant. “Its improbable for everyone in a family to be a psychotic asshole. This is real life, not _The Hills Have Eyes._ ”

Jade’s pained expression evaporated and she smirks. “I bet they’re thinking we have a _Hills Have Eyes_ situation going on. My boyfriend’s a mutant and I live in New Jack City. Most of the time I got asked if I was looking for money.”

“That’s a dickish thing to say. People think _everyone_ in New Jack is on welfare.”

“Well, more than half the population _is_ on welfare. It’s not bad for them to be precautious since they’re so well off. If I had money, I’d be cautious of moochers too.”

You don’t dispute her further. This is the first time Jade’s sounded optimistic. Maybe she’ll return to her old self after all the funerary arrangements are completed.

You have to go the head of the public storage office. Jade shows them proof of I.D. and they hand over the keys. The inside of the storage unit is musty, slightly damp, and full of boxes. Jade and you explore the boxes but find two things: weapons and survival gear.

“ _Jegus_. You’d think the guy was waging war in the meantime.” You uncover yet another box of ammo and move it to the side. The second box in the stack is full of army rations. You pick up a brown plastic foil package and read the label. “ _Military Ration Ultimate Self-Heating Full Meal._ Included: shrimp cocktail, poppyseed cake, lemon drink mix.” You look at Jade. “Something tells me that _this_ is more edible than the shrimp scampi they made us for lunch.”

“Definitely.” Jade chuckles. She’s looking through another box. “These are all solar charging equipment.”

“What did he _need_ all this stuff for?”

“Grandpa went hunting a lot but he believed in disaster preparedness.” Jade opens another box and pulls out a dusty rifle. “He always brought rations of food, water, and emergency supplies whenever he went hunting.”

“We can’t sell the weapons without a permit,” you say, “and we don’t have room for more guns. I mean _gods_ , there must be _three years_ worth of stuff in here.”

You have to keep an inventory list on your iHusk about what you uncover. At noon, Jade and you sit on boxes and total things out.

“There has to be a thousand boons worth of _stuff_ here.” Jade pushes a dangling dread out of here face. “There’s no way we’ll sell this. No one but a _really_ crazy survivalist will want this stuff.”

“I think I know someone who’d want all this.”

“Who?”

“Me.”

Jade stares at you. ”What?”

“I’ll buy all of this from you.”

Jade sighs. “Karkat, I don’t have time for _jokes_ …”

“Its not a joke,” you say, earnestly, “I have the money.”

Jade is naturally skeptical of your hidden wealth. “ _You_ have a thousand boons? Have you been secretly cooking soporin?”

“No. My grandfather left me money and I’m purchasing certain things. I’m stockpiling in case of emergency. I even have a safe place for it.”

“You never struck me as a doom prepper.”

“Me neither, but things change. I can pay you in cash or I can sign you a check.”

“The police would notice if I suddenly deposited fifteen thousand boons into my bank account.” Jade says, “Cash would be better. I can divvy it up and deposit a certain amount every week. I honestly just want to empty this storage unit so I don’t have to pay for it.”

“Are you selling anything from here?”

“No. Just from grandpa’s trailer really. Dave and I were talking about moving Grandpa’s armoire into our room and putting the TV in it. We’re also going to take the arm chair and put it in the baby’s room. So we’re selling the mattresses, the rest of the furniture, and anything else.”

“I’ll put the word out you’re selling mattresses. I think Sollux was looking for a new one.”

Your iHusk sounds off with “Wild Wild West” by Troll Will Smith, which means someone not on your trollroll is messaging you. You look to see your Trollichum flooded with messages.  

 

\--turbulentlyAddled[TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist[CG]!--

 

TA: H3333333Y

TA: Y0U!!!

CG: WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL?

TA: 5H3 COLL45P3D 4ND N0T G3TT1NG UP!!!

TA: 1 D0NT KN0W WH4T T0 D0!!!

CG: WHAT

TA: H3LP!!!

CG: WHO IN THE FUCK *ARE* YOU?!

TA: 1TS M3!

CG: I HAVE NO IDEA WHO “ME” IS!

TA: M1TUN4 Y0U FUCKW4D!!

CG: OH. OKAY THEN.

TA: Y0U H4V3 T0 H3LP!!

CG: WITH WHAT?   

TA: L47UL45 N70 W4K1NG UP!! 5H35 N0T W4K1NG UP 4ND 1 D0N7 K N0W WH47 70 D0!

CG: WHAT? SHIT.

CG: IS SHE BREATHING?

TA: Y34H

CG: MITUNA, YOU NEED TO STAY WITH LATULA.

TA: 1 4M 5H3S N07 W4K1NG UP 1 D0N7 KN0W WH4T 70 D0 1 JUS7 45D450N4545D4 FUCK FUCK FUCK

CG: MITUNA, TAKE A DEEP BREATH.

TA: 0K4Y

CG: JUST STAY WITH LATULA. I’M GOING TO GET YOU HELP.

TA: 0K4Y

 

You start dialing Kankri’s home number. “Shit, this isn’t good.”

“What’s going on?” Jade asks.

“Latula collapsed and Mituna’s freaking out. I don’t think Sollux is home either.” You get the answering machine at Kankri’s mobilehive. You sigh and start dialing Terezi’s iHusk number. “C’mon, Terezi…pick up.”

It’s a minute before she picks up. “Karkat, what is it?”

“Where are you?”

“We’re coming back from Walmart. What’s going on?”

“Latula collapsed. Mituna’s freaking the fuck out and I don’t know where Sollux is.”

“Oh. Oh my gods.” Terezi inhales sharply. She stumbles over the words and then pulls back into a calm, forcing sentences, “I know Sollux went to take the egg for a check-up. We’re pulling into the neighborhood now. ”

“Alright. Keep me updated.” You hang up and look at Jade. “Terezi’s on her way.”

“Good. I hope Latula’s okay…”

“Same.” You give the boxes one last look and then walk to the door. “I can get Rufioh to help me move all this stuff into his truck tomorrow. I can pay you tomorrow evening.”

Jade still looks unconvinced. “What do _you_ want all this stuff for?”

“In case of emergency.” you say, as neutrally as possible. She’d assume you were crazy if she knew the real reason.

When you return to your neighborhood, you go immediately to Kankri’s mobilehive. Behind the doors you hear an argument.  

You knock and Kankri answers, sighing. “I was hoping you’d show up.”

Terezi is sitting on the couch. “I _still_ can’t believe it!”

“She’s been like this since we got back.” Kankri sighs and walks to the kitchen.

You sit next to Terezi. “I’m assuming Latula didn’t want to go to the hospital.”

Terezi grinds her teeth. “It’s just like her to do this. She always puts herself second, even when it’s something serious! She lost her sense of smell because she was working at that awful factory and…” Terezi lets out an exasperated sigh and leans against you.

You put your arm around her because it’s the least you can do. “Terezi, we can’t force her to go. My grandfather was the same way.”

“But she’s _sick_ , Karkat! She’s already lost her sense of smell. What if she loses her sight too? Who’s going to take care of Mituna if something happens to her?”

“Sollux has been taking good care of them and Eridan is helping too. And Latula is an adult. Maybe she’s doing this for a reason…”

“ _You_ weren’t there, Karkat.” Terezi growls. “When we got there, Mom had blood around her nose and mouth. Kankri tried to tell me it wasn’t as bad but _I_ know what blood smells like. She’s sick, Karkat.”

“She doesn’t want medical expenses to eat up your family’s income.” You say gently. “The rent hike is coming in January and everyone is holding onto their money—”

“She shouldn’t _have_ to hold onto it!” Terezi argues. “It isn’t _fair,_ Karkat _!_ Mom worked all her life to make sure Sollux and I would have a roof over our heads. She even dealt with Mituna and now she…she’s…”

Her eyes widen and teal tears spill from her eyes. You’ve never seen her like this before. Being blinded didn’t make Terezi this upset, moving to the trailer park and staring down poverty didn’t make her this upset, but the thought of losing her mother breaks her. You both know that once a troll starts coughing blood, the end is approaching.

Neither of you are sure if a doctor could even help. You’re not ready to give up though.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” you say, “My grandfather left me money. I could pay for Latula to see a doctor.”

Terezi shakes her head. “Karkat, I can’t ask you to do that. Even if Mom sees a doctor, then what? Medication is expensive. And what if she needs more than medication? What if she needs a new organ? What if she needs nanite therapy?”

Nanite therapy had replaced chemotherapy millennia ago. Nanites were dispersed through the body to attack cancerous growths but it was a tiring process and several things could backfire. The drugs were costly as well, starting at 30,000 boons a month. Sometimes an organ transplant was still necessary and cloned organs for trolls were double the amount for humans, numbering close to 400,000 boons pending on the hemotype rarity.

You don’t want to see Terezi and Sollux go motherless but that money should be for your children. You can’t go spending it all right now.

You look at Terezi’s tear slick face and touch it, wiping away her tears. “I should be able to pay for a doctor…” you mutter, futilely.

“I think Sollux would want to pay for that.” Terezi smiles and it looks so strained and painful on her sweet face. “We’ll figure out something together. We always do. Karkat, you need to keep the money for yourself. I don’t think I could live with myself if I drained all the money your grandfather saved up for you.”

You hold her and feel like crying too because not even with money can you solve all the problems.

Kankri leaves the kitchen, peeking at you both with worry in his eyes. “Dinner’s ready, Karkat, if you want to stay.”

You smile. “Sure.”

Dinner is another of Kankri’s Betty Crocker recipes: meatloaf and roasted red potatoes. Kankri’s cooking has finally evolved from thankfully edible to slightly enjoyable. Its _far_ from being a meal to look forward to but you eat to be polite. Terezi is happy to talk about anything else but picks at her food.

“Eldritch Night is coming up. Do you two have any plans?” you ask.

“No. Everyone’s too scared to really do anything.” Kankri sighs.

“We should do _something_. We can’t let fear rule us.” You insist.

“Easier said than done, Karkat.” Terezi says, “With the gang war going on, people aren’t going to be walking around trick or treating, let alone having their kids do it. People don’t want to go to the Spookshow at the fairgrounds because of the bomb scare. There’s not going to be any parties because during gang wars, that’s usually where problems start.”

“That’s true…” Dave’s birthday is on Eldritch Night and you had hoped to do something fun.

The rest of the dinner is quiet. You finish eating but Terezi’s plate is still mostly full. Kankri clears away the plates and Terezi goes to the bedroom to rest with her eggs. You let her have space and go to the kitchen, where Kankri is loading dishes into the washer.

“You got the washer fixed?” you ask.

“Yes. Jake came by a few weeks ago and helped out.” He looks at you. “Karkat, I think you should save up some money in case something happens.”

“Something in particular?” You’re sure Kankri overheard you talking to Terezi about your grandfather’s money but so far he hasn’t eluded to knowing.  

“November is coming and the Winter Holiday season is starting.” Kankri says, quietly, “More people are hired for the holiday rush so most businesses check their books to see if they need to hire more, lay off, or how much the Winter Holiday bonus will be. The Cherubs will check their financial progress in New Jack and will tie up ‘loose ends’.”

You frown. “We’ve always considered the possibilities of an attack. Even though…” You sigh and admit, “I have the feeling that no matter how much we prepare, we’re missing something. It seems strange than said Cherub would follow along with misdirection for so long and not realize something’s up. That’s not the behavior of a massive crime organization.” You start to breathe slower and ignore your pounding heart. “And what are they _waiting_ for? Its been _months_ …”

“Gangs thrive on violence and psychological warfare. I think they’re waiting for the best opportunity.” Kankri sighs. “I just think you should be…prepared is all.”

You are prepared in more ways than he knows. You walk to the door. “I have to go to work. I’ll talk with you later.”

Kankri nods but the tension on his face doesn’t leave. He’s been quieter since he sobered, often staring into space with a meditative look. You’ve seen the same expression on Kurloz and Gamzee, when you’re sure they’re plotting violence.

Could Kankri be doing the same? He’d always been a pacifist, preferring words to physical harm. You can’t see him hurting anyone physically. Its really not something to worry about either. You push aside all intrusive thoughts, as you have to be clear headed for work.


	2. the first job

Sergei has you drive to Aniline End. Its eight thirty at night and the steam clouds are rolling in thicker and more putrid than ever.

Tonight, Sergei is upbeat. “It’s a good thing we’ve been working with the handgun because of the timing of this could not be better.”

“Who’s the mark?” you ask.

Sergei smirks. “The ‘mark’?”

Your face flushes. “I uh, heard that’s what you’re supposed to call it…”

“On _TV_ , Karkat.” Sergei snickers, rolling his eyes. “Just refer to it as a ‘job’.” His good humor is gone the next minute because he says seriously, “And the ‘mark’, as you put it is purpleblood. Egg sellers and slavers are throwing their weight around in Aniline End, harassing Trussians and mutantbloods. If no one wants them or they are too disagreeable, they are gutted.”

You try not to shudder. “What’s the guy’s name? Do you have a picture?”

“Hourig’s boys have been following him. He is known as Roadie, one of Capone’s favored transporters. He’s typically at his manor but the gang war is stretching the Brotherhood thin. Many of them are taking multiple jobs.”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. You pull over to the side of the street, in front of the abandoned hotel brothel.

“How do you know its him?” you ask.

“He’s a frequent patron of ours.” Sergei nods to the brothel. “We matched up his description with the well known players in the Brotherhood” He looks at you.  “Are you sure you can do this?”

You remember that fucker’s ugly face. Carrying you around and treating you like a slab of meat. “I can.”

Sergei smiles. “Then let’s get you suited up.”

 

* * *

 

 

Thirty minutes later you step out of the brothel. Sergei did a wonderful job of making you blend in perfectly with the rest of the Aniline End dregs. He added a layer of costume makeup to make the bags under your eyes more obvious and dotted bruises on your inner elbow of a soporin habit, so the target won’t ask too many questions about what a healthy looking troll is doing in this part of the city.

You walk down the street from the brothel, wearing only a gauzy shirt and overalls like everyone else in Aniline End. You’re starting to speculate that’s all they can afford. Under the shirt is an old lacey bra. Your overalls are long and baggy to conceal the handgun and sickle.  

You keep walking and look out for the target. Only once do you have to glance up and see Sergei moving along the rooftops of the towering buildings. He climbs across ladders, jumping over gaps, and no one pays him any mind because he’s not alone in his roof running.

You get a few catcalls in your direction. People wag their tongues at you or insisting that you spend a little time with them. You walk through a pungent steam cloud of cooking meat pouring out of a makeshift restaurant. Barefoot trolls in dirty clothes look at you but don’t pester you. They’re more concerned with getting a meal than sex. You pass through the steam cloud and see two purplebloods sitting in front of a stand. They’re eating empanadas, sitting on metal stools and looking annoyed.

You recognize Roadie right away. The fucker hasn’t changed. You get within eight feet of him and overhear the bitching.

“This is some motherfucking bullshit,” he growls, “I fucking hate this shitty place. Why do I gotta be here doing fucking grunt work?”

“Not my fucking fault Ryland got caught up doing some other shit.” answers the other purple. You recognize him from the manor as well. “Plus this is an easy job, you lazy fuck.”

“ _You’re_ the lazy fuck. When was the last time you did jack shit?”

You get within three feet of them and smile. “Hey, fella. Lookin’ for fun time?” You add the broken English to make them thing you’re a naïve immigrant.

Roadie smirks. “Maybe. Where’d you come from?”

“It matter? I’m here now and all your for right prince.” You say, toying with your bra strap. You look them both up and down. It’s a flirtatious look but you’re scanning them for weapons. Roadie and the other are wearing flak jackets but only Roadie has the obvious bulge of a gun in his front right pocket. You smile at Roadie, licking your lips. “So what ‘bout it?”

Roadie looks at the other one, who rolls their eyes. “Yeah, I think we can work something out. Come with me and we’ll do business.”

The other purpleblood looks annoyed. He must know Roadie wants to get his rocks off before anything else. Sergei was right. These fucks are easy.

You follow Roadie into a steamy alleyway, crushing discarded syringes under your boot heels and ignoring the garbage blowing in the wind like disgusting tumbleweed. The alleyway is riddled with pipes, dripping with waste water and sewage. At the end of the alleyway is a cement courtyard surrounded by buildings on all sides. In the middle is a white van spotted with rust and no windows in the back. You immediately understand how this score works. Roadie gets a prostitute, lures them to the van, and moves them around in the back.

The other purpleblood stands at the end of the alley, which is the only escape route. He must be making sure you can’t run.

“Nice ride.” You giggle.

Roadie opens up the back of the van. There’s a small stack of boxes and a stained mattress sitting on crates. The inside is padded as to be sound proof. It stinks of Febreeze trying to cover up genetic fluids.

You move inside the van and sit on the mattress edge. “We get privacy?”

Roadie smirks and enters the van, shutting the door behind him. You smile as he comes closer. “Its fifty for a blowjob.” You say, shyly.

“You’re lucky I got cash to spare.” Roadie sits next to you on the mattress and pulls out a wad of boons. You reach for it but he grabs your wrist. “Suck first. Then you’ll get your cash.”

You pout but lower yourself, knees on the back seat and unzip his fly with your mouth. You feel his bulge in your face and it’s a struggle not to vomit. This is the same bulge you had to suck back in that manor. You even remember the angle that you had to do it at. Its too familiar.

The sickle is pressing against your thigh, reminding you about what has to done. In this moment, you no longer hesitate.

Sergei and you rehearsed this time and time again. You practiced your cutting on slabs of meat. Now this is the final test.

You tease his bulge with your tongue and keep him distracted while you reach down. You slide the sickle out of the inner pocket of your pants. The fucker doesn’t even notice because he’s too busy enjoying how submissive you are, being a tall handsome mutantblood. His eyes are half-lidded and he’s making a pleased, muttering noise. You sink your blade into his lower abdomen, where the kidneys are. The blade digs in and you don’t see blood. It feels caught on… _something_ …so you yank and pull out something cold lumpy and wet.

Roadie is saying something—cursing you or shouting in pain. You don’t care. You go for his jugular before he makes too much noise. Cutting his jugular is easier than you thought it would be. Blood drips down onto your clenched and sweating fist. You’re making a mess and getting blood on you. Roadie is struggling, hand pressed against his side and asking you what in the fuck you think you’re doing.

Adrenaline is pumped into your system. “I’ll _tell_ you what I’m doing. You fuck.”

His arm catches you off guard and your blade sinks into his cheek, puncturing a hole. He’s yelling and trying to dislodge you now and you’re trying to do the same. You hit the fuck in the face, bruising your knuckle and his eye. You hit again, this time in the nose and yank out the sickle. The handle is slick with blood. You can’t get a firm grip on it so you just decide to fuck it.

You get out the hand gun. You’re shaking. You look down at Roadie and shove the gun into his mouth. He’s howling, making a noise like a dying dog. His hand is pressed against his side, trying to stop the bleeding. You shove the muzzle into his mouth. You squeeze the trigger and there’s the loud _bang_ you’ve heard over and over again these past weeks. The back of Roadie’s head explodes and he’s still.

You’re still shaky and smeared with purple blood. “That’s for raping me, you son of a bitch.”

 

 

Roadie doesn’t respond. You doubt he would care. You weren’t a victim, just another part of the job. You can’t hear anything outside. You inch to the door and open it slightly. You hear the footsteps of the other purpleblood heading toward the van. You tighten your grip on the gun.

“Roadie? What in the fu—”

Then there’s another _bang_ , followed by a thud. The sound is overtaken by a car alarm going down the street and the hum of life in Aniline End. No one here is going to complain about a few guns going off. You look out the window and see the other purpleblood lying on the ground and the back of his head blown apart; brain and blood mottling his wild hair. You open the door and Sergei is climbing down the side of the building. He lands on the ground and walks over to you. You look from where he climbed down and see there are plenty of people looking down from rooftops and roof-walks; all wearing black and all warmbloods from what you can tell by their horns.

Sergei looks you up and down and sighs. “Next time, try not to make so much of a mess.”

“S-sorry…” You can’t help but stammer. You’re still holding the gun and the sickle. “W-what time is it…?”

“Eleven thirty. Come on.” Sergei tugs the gun out of your hand. You refuse to let go of your grandfather’s sickle. Sergei takes your free hand and moves you to one of the surrounding buildings in the alley.

A mutantblood stands in the open doorway. “What about the cars and body?  Should we make a message out of them?”

“No point in lessons to those who are incapable of learning.” Sergei says, “Strip what you can and dump the rest. Let the Brotherhood realize on their own their costly mistake.”

The other mutantblood nods. “There should be warm water and clothes upstairs.”

Sergei smiles down at you as you head up some steep stairs. The building is much larger on the inside, packed with warmbloods.  

“You did well,” Sergei says, “I’m proud of you.”

You give him a weak smile. You don’t know how proud you are of yourself. You go to the bathroom at the top of the stairs. There’s a change of clothes in a plastic bag and the water from the pipes are clear. You get a small square of soap to scrub the blood off. You dump the soiled clothes into the plastic bag.

You look at yourself in the mirror and see you’re no different. You always thought killing would make you look guilty or hollow, but there’s no change. You don’t even feel sick, or like you’re going to pass out or scream.

You don’t feel anything. You don’t even burn for vengeance in the first place. You wanted to forget everything involving the manor, but it happened anyways.

You leave the bathroom and Sergei is standing outside. “You clean up fast. Up to driving home?”

You smile weakly. “Yeah. I’m game.”

Sergei touches your shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend to be made of iron, Karkat. Everyone gets jitters from the first time.”

It sounds so normal when he puts it that way. Then you remember that Sergei has been killing people since he was young.

You nod. “Thank you but I’m fine. Really.”

Sergei doesn’t press you. You leave the building and return to the car. You leave the narrow streets of Aniline End, feeling no different from when you arrived. You just killed a man and you don’t feel any better or worse for it. The radio drones pop music hits and Sergei says nothing, staring out the window.

“How many purplebloods have you killed?” you ask.

Sergei laughs. “You think I keep count of that? Karkat, we are not monstrous clowns. We do not keep notches under our belt of who we kill so we can gloat it to comrades. We have more class than _that_.”

“I was just wondering.”

“Does it trouble you to know that you ended someone’s life?”

“I…don’t know.” you admit. “Dirk killed the purplebloods guarding me. I wouldn’t be here if someone hadn’t died. I saw the corpses. I’m not sad about _them_ being dead but I still feel strange.”

You feel empty. You should feel _something_ after killing someone: rage, bitterness, sorrow but you feel nothing. Is that normal?

“Things have changed.” Sergei says, “You can never look at the world the same after you killed someone. Did you think you would kill someone?”

“No,” you admit, “but I thought that person would always be a mugger or a rapist. I never thought…” You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“In time, I think you will. Though I must ask: why use the sickle first and not the gun?”

“The gun would’ve been easy to knock out of my hand. He’d expect someone to pull a gun out at him, not a sickle.” You say, too quickly for your comfort.

“You’re thinking about it. Well done.” You see the reflection of Sergei’s smile in the window.

You just nod.

You return home and inside Dave and Jade have fallen asleep listening on the living room couch. You take a hot shower, enjoy your re-heated dinner, and go to sleep.

You wake up without nightmares or memorable dreams. Is that normal? Maybe it is for a troll. You’re not a species well known for cherishing life

The week passes and you don’t feel anything. By Wednesday you’ve given up worrying. There’s no point and you don’t need the additional stress anyways. You’re not just learning language now but finances. Sergei even gave you a book on it to study. You’ve learned that most of your gang’s funds come from white collar crimes (embezzlement, corporate espionage, bootlegging, fraud, forgery) rather than the Brotherhood and UBK’s blue collar crimes (drug manufacturing, robbery, egg trafficking). Sergei promises that when you’ve learned enough, you’ll officially take on a minor task within the gang.

When you get home from work, you use your remaining energy to help tidy up.

When Saturday comes, you’re all exhausted. You get up at seven to drive to the New Jack Waterport in Twelve Acres. Twelve Acres is the most run-down of suburban East New Jack. If you lived in the Squalor and wanted to go to college, you ended up there.

The waterport is much bigger than you remember, but you haven’t been here since you were little. You browse a little, exploring overpriced stores and kiosks. You get breakfast tacos and look outside the window overseeing the waterfront. There are multiple rows of levees and ACVs skidding across the water. An ACV was really a large boat but it moved better than a standard ship and used air-currents to move.

“Why are there multiple levees?” you ask.

“This place got wrecked after Calliope so they rebuilt it with emergency levees.” Dave says.

“Of course they didn’t do the same for _our_ neighborhood cause screw us.” Jade snorts.

“But we still have levees surrounding the Ninth Ward. Why do we need emergency ones?”

Jade says and picks up a brochure on the table. She folds the edges, making an origami box. She taps the center of the box. “ _This_ is our neighborhood.” She taps the edges of the box. “These are levees. Everything inside of it is below sea level. If it were to flood, there would be no easy way to get the water out due to the shape. In order to make effective emergency levees, we’d need to build another set _inside_ the Ninth Ward. They’ve talked about doing that for years but it never came to fruition.”

“Because we don’t matter.” Dave snorts. “When Calliope happened, they dynamited levees along North Aniline End so that the flood waters in East New Jack would disperse. That whole place got wrecked and nobody cared. Now North Aniline End’s a ghost slum no one will touch.”

“I heard someone wants to build another East New Jack zoned high school there, so they might take it over. The people who run Fairmont Shoppes aren’t happy about it.” you say.

“Well of _course_ they wouldn’t be.” Jade says, “If they build something zoned for East New Jack, they’ll have to expand the district and half of Fairmont Shoppes is in Aniline End. Its expensive to run restaurants in East New Jack, so the taxes will increase.” Her iHusk chirps and she looks at it. “Alright. 7:45. They’re here.”

You stand and walk in direction of the gate. Jade anxiously hurries ahead of you.  

You nudge Dave. “How you feeling?” you whisper.

“Not sure about these relatives is how I’m feeling.” Dave whispers back.

You smile. “C’mon. What’s the worse that could happen?”

You stand in the port lobby and watch Young British tourists flood the area. It’s a mix of the excited and the jet-lagged chatting in various accents. What surprises you is that the humans are mutated and not just albinos. You see a few with head ridges and jaundiced eyes. Others are too tall or their limbs are too long. Some are even covered in veils to hide more exrteme deformities.

Out of the swarm of people, three step out of the crowd and approach you.

You take a deep breath. “And here we go.”


	3. the relative mirror

==> **Karkat: Be Jade meeting her relatives**

 

The first thing you notice are the dark shades the two humans are wearing. The girl has long black hair, held back with a red headband. She’s wearing a black cocktail dress striped with red. To her left is a skinny man in a red and black suit and freckles. He’s too preoccupied with his cellphone to look up. To her right is a butler mutantblood holding the bags. His eyelids are accented with red kohl and his hands decorated with henna. All three of them have metal Crockercorp badges pinned over their hearts.

 

 

If they were all sporting goatees, you’d think they stepped out of a mirror universe.

Your doppelganger rigidly nods. “I am Ruby Crocker. This is my fiancée Dilwyn Spokane and my manservant Ravenj Vantas.”

Karkat and Dave are wearing their poker faces. You can’t tell if they’re just as freaked out as you are. Dilwyn is still on his phone, uninterested in whatever’s going on and the mutantblood is staring at you. He’s short like how Karkat was pre-molt but incredibly skinny.

“Its so good to finally meet you.” You gesture to Dave and Karkat. “This is my boyfriend Dave and Karkat.” You smile sadly, “I’m sorry we couldn’t have met under better circumstances.”

“Better late than never. Do you have the body?” asks Ruby.

“No, he’s still at the morgue.”

“Ah. I see.” Ruby folds her fingers. “I was hoping to glimpse my grandfather’s condition but that’s fine. We can have him shipped to a Crockercorp funeral home.”

Why in the hell does Crockercorp own funeral homes? You want to ask but you’re scared of the answer. “You must be jet lagged from your trip. You can rest at our home.”

“No. We all took pills to prevent that but we do wish to see your home and get on with the funerary preparations.” Ruby nods to you.

Straight and to the point then. “Do you want to ride in the car with us?”

Dave gives you a pleading look but Ruby shakes her head. “No, we called the Crockercorp offices that we will be visiting and they have supplied us with a company car. We shall follow your vehicle.”

Sounds like she’s here for strictly business purposes. Ruby and her companions get into a red car with the Crockercorp logo on it and follow your car. When you arrive home, Ruby gets out the car and says nothing, just observing the area. She nudges Dilwyn (as discreetly as possible) and he looks up from his cellphone. Dilwyn smirks and goes back to his cellphone. Something tells you you’re going to _hate_ that guy. Ravenj looks at the place but continues typing on his iHusk.

“Well, this is it.” You say, trying to be as polite as possible to Ruby. “Its actually Dave’s place. Dave is my boyfriend.”

“Yup. This is casa de Strider.” Dave says.

“I see.” Ruby looks around and adds, “I always heard that New Jack wakes had live swingbeat music.

That’s more of a really outdated stereotype. You expect her to ask if Jade ever went craw fishing barefoot and cracked crabs barehanded. You smile though. “No really. Our schools don’t even have music programs anymore. I haven’t played a flute since elementary school.”

“Oh. I see.” Ruby nods to Ravenj, who starts typing.

You take Ruby inside and she sits on the couch. The room is tense, as no one knows what to say or do around the other. You need to think of a way to break the ice so you say, “Dilwyn, Ravenj, maybe Dave and Karkat can show you around? We’re still setting up for the garage sale and wake.”

Dave and Karkat both throw you a pleading look. Dilwyn does the same to Ruby. “That’s fine.” she says.

Ravenj and Dilwyn get up from the couch and follow Dave and Karkat out. You sit next to Ruby. “So, I’m assuming you didn’t know my grandfather since you were born after he left Young Britain.”

Ruby nods. “Yes, but I heard of him or rather, I heard of the results of his son’s exploits and how it affected our family. Did you know about your father?”

“No. Grandpa told me my father died in a hunting accident and my mother was shipped off to Nehetaly. I didn’t discover the truth until later.”

“My father didn’t go into details about it either. Talking about his elder sister is taboo in my household.”

Ruby and you both lapse into silence for the next minute. Damn it. You need to think of a better topic. “Grandpa told me how you have fox hunts in your domed cities. I always wanted to have one. I went hunting with Grandpa.”

“Really?” That makes Ruby smile. “Do you hunt lusus? Young Britain is crowded so there’s nothing bigger than a dog when it comes to sport, unless you make it in an ectolab.”

“New Jack City is riddled with lusii. The further south you get, the woods increase so the lusii get bigger, like musclebeasts and giant bats.”

“Giant bats?” Ruby’s eyes widen. “I’d _love_ to hunt down one of those.”

The ice finally breaks and the two of you talk about hunting. You exchange stories of trips both triumphant and awry.

People arrive one by one for the wake, offering condolences and home cooked meals. There’s not many people here since Grandpa wasn’t well liked but you think a small wake is better than no wake at all. Jane brings crawfish bisque and there are four different kinds of pie. Everyone expects you to eat a lot since you’re pregnant but you’re not really that interested. You nibble here and there.

Ruby also seems to have no interest in the food. “I ate on the ship.” She insists. She stands at the window and intensely watches Dilwyn sitting at the table with Dave.

Tavros comes over to you but his eyes are on Ruby. “Who’s the ice queen?”

“My cousin Ruby Crocker from Young Britain and she’s not an ice queen. She’s just nervous.”

Tavros smirks. “Nice to know what a coolkid version of you would look like.”

“She’s not cooler than me!” you huff.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Tavros rolls his eyes. “She’s wearing a tight dress, shades, and has hips don’t lie.”

“She’s not _staying_.” You pinch the bridge of Tavros’s nose. “Its my grandfather’s wake. That’s not the time for you to flirt with my doppelganger.”

“Ow! I just said she’s _cute_!”

“Uh _huh_.” you say, skeptically, and not letting him go.

“Oh my fucking god. _Harley_.” Karkat walks into the living room. “I cannot fucking talk to Ravenj anymore. I have never met a more boring waste of space.”  

“What’s wrong?” you say.

Tavros gently pries your hand from his face and playfully nips your knuckles. Goofball or not, he knows when to apply Nitram charm. “Karkat doesn’t make friends is what’s wrong.” He says. 

“Ha ha fuck you.” Karkat says.

Tavros smirks. “You _wish_.”

“ _You_ didn’t have to put up with him for hours.” Karkat says, “One: the sound of his voice is like Mr. Rogers took a Quaalude. Two: I don’t understand what in the fuck he’s saying. He’s got some kind of fucking _incomprehensible_ accent. It sounds like he’s gargling marbles and eating cheese all at the same time. I doubt its even _English._ ”

“Its English. He could just have a particular accent.” You sigh.

“I’m tired of talking to him. Maybe Dave’s willing to switch out for Dilwyn.” Karkat grumbles.

“They’re people, not Fiduspawn.” You sigh.

Ravenj walks in the living room with his eyes on the ground. He’s doing his best not to look any humans in the eyes.

You smile at the other mutantblood. “So…how was the trip?”

Ravenj nods and walks over to Ruby. He whispers something and then scurries out the door. Karkat looks at you. “Well, he was talkative as hell when I was alone with him.”

“I’m sorry for that.” Ruby says, “Back home, servants do not socialize if they’re on the job.”

“He was talking to _me_.” Karkat mutters.

“Oh…?” Ruby’s head tilts only slightly as she observes Karkat. She withholds whatever she’s actually thinking and says, “He must assume you’re a servant. Otherwise, why would you be living here?” She must see Karkat’s face because she quickly backtracks, “He’s _assuming_ that though. In all the other homes we’ve been in, there were troll servants. I’m sure it’s not a judgment on your part.”

“I _bet_.” Karkat grumbles.

“Where _is_ his accent from?” you ask, dispersing the argument.

“Birminpool, which is a large city east of New London. It has a sizeable troll population. We call it a Brumcouser accent. Its different from mine, which is the Child Queen’s English. Dilwyn is a Spokane so he has an Estushire accent, which is from Leedsgow. Leedsgow is the second largest city on the island and south of New London.” Ruby says.

“I thought you said your mother was a Spokane?” you ask.

“Yes. Dilwyn is my aunt’s second cousin.”

“Go figure.” Karkat mutters.

“You think their kids would have webbed feet?” Tavros whispers.

You elbow Karkat and grabs Tavros’s ear. You nod politely to Ruby and head toward the door with the two of them. “Karkat. Tavros. Go help Dave.”

The two of them scowl at you but leave Ruby alone. Jane is now talking to Ruby and there’s no way that could go wrong. Jane’s always polite and Ruby is…standoffish and foreign but she’s nice and that’s all that matters to you really. 

The lawn is crowded with people shifting through Grandpa’s things. A few people are dragging away dressers or carrying lamps. Karkat is trying to pawn a mattress off on a family of salamanders. Ravenj is sitting on the porch, staring at the back of Dilwyn’s head.

Dilwyn is sitting at a table with Dave, overseeing Grandpa’s watches and glasses cases. Dave has few facial expressions but you can tell he’s wearing his ‘please gods bring the lightning’ look while Dilwyn is talking.  

“How in the fuck can you live here? These pleblands smell like fucking burning plastic.” Dilwyn says.

“You get used to it.” Dave says.

“The _hell_ you can. I’m surprised you’re not _more_ mutated.” Dilwyn continues, “Like back home we got thousands of fugee with permanent jaundice and head ridges. Real horrorshow freakshow. You sure I’m not getting cancer just sitting out here?”

“You could always sue the city if you do.” Dave says, humorlessly.

“New Jackers are just heartier.” you say, walking over. You look at Dave. “How are things going?”

“We sold all the clothes and furniture. Just trying to get rid of the mattresses.” He says.

You pat him on the shoulder. “Whatever we can’t sell, we can give to Goodwill. We can use the tax write-off.”

Dilwyn looks at you and tilts his head. “Hey…you’re pregnant.”

For some reason, his tone makes you want to punch him. You smile though.  “Congratulations. You observed the obvious.”

Dilwyn starts furiously typing on his cellphone. “Just not something you see often unless you’re plebs. Guess it’s the normal since you bunch can’t afford the bottling.”

“I bet.” You say, heading inside.

Dave touches your hand. “Don’t leave me alone…” he whispers.

“Better you than me.” You chuckle.

Dave whines, now stuck with Dilwyn. You go back inside the trailer and see Ruby is talking to Kanaya.

“—think the only time I saw a jadeblood was at a Diversity and Training Conference in Leedsgow. She was the head of some non-profit and teaching a seminar about trolls and gender pronoun preference.” Ruby says.

“Jadebloods have _always_ been a rarity.” Kanaya chuckles. “Do you have any trolls where you live?”

“No. Businesses that can afford to live in the domes are human aristocracy only. There’s been some discussion about building a second dome in Birminpool or Leedsgow. I’m sure there are trolls amongst them.”

“I always thought there were domes all over Young Britain?”

“Oh no. Young Britain is _very_ landlocked. You have to demolish to build anything nowadays. New London has the only domes and they are ancient, dating but from colonization. Birminpool has a growing population of nouveau riche who want to be separated from the plebs.”

Ruby speaks more about human mutations and the air becomes hot and stifling. You leave for the back porch so you can have fresh air and embrace the drizzling calm. The skies overheard are melded together into a dark grey blanket.

John steps onto the porch. “Hey.”

You give John a weak smile. “Hey.”

Grandpa always liked John, even though John thought he was kind of a jerk. Grandpa had hoped John and you would hit it off, but you know Grandpa only approved of John because he was one of the least mutated humans in the park.

“I know you’ve heard this from everyone by now, but I’m sorry about your grandfather.” He says.

“Its not your fault, John. Its not anyone’s fault.” Well, it is _one_ person’s fault but dwelling on negative thoughts will only raise your blood pressure. “How are you doing though? Every time I see you, you have more grey hairs.”

“We’re _all_ going to have grey hairs by the time this is over, or be bald.” and John’s voice sounds deeper and harsher than you’ve ever heard him before. He sees the look on your face and adds, “All this waiting is getting to me. I’m afraid what will happen next but can’t show it, and its gnawing at me.”

“Me too, but I’m ready for anything. No one else is going to get hurt.” You press your hand against your abdomen.

John looks at your stomach. “How are you doing?”

“Fine. A little nausea in the morning but it could be worse.” You answer. “Dave and I had to go to the gene screeners and…” You sigh. “Well, nothing out of the extraordinary was present so I guess that’s a blessing.”

“Do you know the gender yet?”

You smile. “Yes, but I haven’t told anyone.”

Ruby steps onto the porch. “Jade, I must speak with you.” She looks at John. “In private preferably.”

John smiles. “I was on my way out anyways. I have dress rehearsal for _Guys and Dolls_ in an hour.”

“You’re just all over the place these days.” You chuckle. You give John a goodbye hug and he ambles off. You look at Ruby. “What is it?”

“While I enjoy your hospitality, I can’t stay long if I wish to catch the evening ACV returning to Young Britain.” She holds out her iHusk, displaying a document. “Place your thumbprint at the end of the document within the red square for your approval. That way I will have legal ownership of the body.”

You look at the iHusk and say, politely, “May I see that?”

“Of course.”

Ruby hands you the iHusk and you scroll through the pdf. Its not a very long document, just flowery legal language about signing over the body of Hass Harley formerly Jacobus English IV to Crockercorp, its board of directors, and company subsidiaries. From the phrasing, its like they’re talking about a piece of furniture or equipment, not a human being. You guess there are some cultural barriers you’re never going to understand. You press your thumb in the square the end of the document and the iHusk chirps.

You hand it back to Ruby and she nods. “Thank you, Jade. Perhaps in the future you can come to Young Britain and see him in the Crockercorp museum.”

The idea of seeing your grandparents’ stuffed corpses on display is creepy. You respect Young British culture but you don’t want any part of _that_.

“I will consider it,” you say, smiling, “and thank you for doing this. I know it’s a long trip to get the body of someone you never met.”

“I am doing this in exchange for a future favor from my father, but that is not my reason for coming all this way.” Ruby says, “I wished to discuss something with you. I realize that as a pregnant woman in your economic class, things maybe be financially difficult.”

You try not to frown but you wonder how Ruby figured out your pregnancy. You’re not obviously showing. That’s when you recall Dilwyn constantly typing on his iHusk. _Of course,_ you think, _that’s who he’s been talking to. He’s observing everything._

“I don’t want any money, Ruby.” you say, as politely as possible.

“Hear me out.” Ruby says, “I am the latest generation of the aristocracy. I am well aware of how we may die out due to population bottleneck. You are a descendant of aristocracy, a cousin to us. Therefore, it is not illegal or frowned upon to ask this request of an aristocratic cousin, and you are one of the few we possess. Or rather, one of the few we now know about.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

Ruby shakes her head. “Perhaps I should _show_ you the situation.”

Ruby taps the side of her shades and you hear a computerized _blip._ The shade tint lightens and Ruby removes them. You see her eyes for the first time and your stomach squirms violently. Her sclera are yellow-orange and her eyes are purplish-red with horizontal pupils. You can’t look at her. It’s too repulsive.

 

 

Ruby nods and you remember that she has received the same reaction from her family and friends. “So you understand my predicament. My family has forbidden me from carrying on the family name genetically, and I am not the only one of the latest generation to have such mutations. My skin used to be in worse condition but the nanospa has repaired that, and only that.”

You wonder about the condition of Dilwyn’s eyes but nod. You look at her and steel your stomach. “Is it hard to see?” you ask, letting sympathy leak into your voice.

“I experience near blindness in daylight but night time is when my vision is superior.” Ruby puts the shades back on and presses the side. It _blips_ again and the shades darken. They must be cybernetics specifically designed to hide the severity of the mutation. “Even if I was allowed to procreate, my fertility is questionable as I have been reproductively irregular since puberty. I have been to the best doctors available in the country and they speculate that even with medical treatments, pregnancy will not come easily to me.”

Your stomach gives a nervous twitch but you push away thoughts concerning the gene screening. “I see, but what do you want from me?”

“I have a proposition to offer you.” Ruby says in a business-like manner, “I am willing to purchase one of your ova. Non-mutated ova are in high demand so the selling price will be 10,000 boon.”

“I’m not completely unmutated though. I still have _this_.” You touch the birthmark on your cheek. “I may be just as mutated as you. I just don’t show it.”

“Physical mutations are the ones that matter the most. A birth mark can be erased with two years of nanite therapy.” Ruby quips, unmoved.

This must be her real motivation for coming here: she wanted to see your fertility and physical mutations.

You hesitate in your response. Why does Ruby want a child so badly? Not from maternal warmth but for legal reasons. Funds and corporate ownership can only pass through bloodlines. She’d use a child as a way to cement business deals, not for affection. You’re not sure if you want to support such a thing. Still, there’s no malice behind her words. Its something she genuinely wants because this is her culture and the way she’s been raised.

“I’ll consider it.” you say, politely.

“That is all I ask for. If you have further questions, you can always contact me via Trollichum. I would like to stay in contact with my relatives.” Ruby smiles. “Now, I have another question. It concerns the mutantblood who appears to be living with you.”

How would she know that? _The same way she knows about my pregnancy,_ you surmise, which means Dilwyn has been messaging Ruby this whole time with observations. You should have expect this question sooner or later.

“He’s Dave’s kismesis.” You say.

Now Ruby looks confused. “You let your boyfriend have sex with a troll?”

You smile. “It doesn’t bother me. I have one of my own.”

“Interesting.” Ruby is typing on her iHusk, making a note. “I never thought a conservative place like New Jack City would allow that.”

You smile. “A lot of people are cowardly and hypocrites.”

Ruby smiles back. “Sounds like people are the same all over.”


	4. the same all over

**== > Jade: Be Karkat again**

 

The trailer seems to exhale when Ruby leaves with Dilwyn and Ravenj. The neighbors and buyers disperse into the soggy autumnal evening. Jade becomes quiet again while Dave and you help clean up. For dinner you have leftovers and sit in the living room. You watch Bee and Puppycat because you’re all sick of the Squiddles. You’ve never watched Bee and Puppycat before but you’ve heard buzz about it around school.

“That Dilwyn guy was a dick. I can’t _believe_ you left me alone with him.” Dave says, glaring at Jade.

“I dunno. With him around it was like having two annoying hipsters.” You say.

“I am _not_ as huge a dick as _that_ guy. He kept asking me if there was a place where I could score him some drugs. Do I look like the kind of guy who does drugs?”

“I don’t know. I thought pot and hashish are hipster drugs.”

Dave frowns. “I have no idea since I don’t do drugs.”

“Drugs aren’t hip enough for your groove, Daddy-O?”

“That’s beatniks. Not _hipsters_.”

“They’re the same thing.”

“No, they are _not_.”

“Ruby wants me to be her egg donor.” Jade says, flatly.

You both look at Jade. It’s the first thing she’s said since Ruby left.

“What?” Dave asks.

“The aristocracy are getting physical mutations,” Jade says, “but I lack physical mutations so she wants me to donate an egg for her.”

You have no idea what to say. “What did you say?”

“I said I would…think about it.” Jade mutters. “She wasn’t asking to be a huge bitch. She genuinely wanted my help and was willing to pay me.”

“Yeah, but just because you’re not physically mutated doesn’t mean something else could be, well…” Dave hesitates again.

You look anxiously at the door. You should probably leave. These are human issues.

Jade idly twirls one of her dreads around her finger. “I didn’t say ‘yes’, Dave. I’m more worried about dashing her hopes just because I don’t _look_ mutated. The gene screen said that—”

The dread breaks off from her head. Jade goes stiff as a board, watching the dreadlock fall into her lap. Dave and you are frozen, unsure of what to do or say. Now you _really_ wish you had left the room.

Its then Jade bursts into tears. Being your helpful self, you have no idea what in fuck to do so you just quietly clean up the empty plates while Dave comforts Jade.

“I fucking _hate this_!” Jade hiccups. “I hate not being able to do anything and now I can’t even have a peace of mind about—”

“Jade, its alright.” Dave says, sounding so incredibly awkward. “The gene screen isn’t an end-all analysis. There’s only a eighty-five percent chance—”

“Eighty five percent means ‘almost certain’!”

You have no idea what she’s crying about but you return to the living room with a box of tissues and looking at Dave as you share the same awkward moment together. There’s enough awkward in the room that not one person could handle it alone.

“I mean _look_ at me!” Jade yanks the scarf off her head.

“Jade, I’m sure its nothing— _oh my gods what happened?_ ”

Dave and you are both staring at Jade’s scalp. The dreadlocks on the top of her head have been falling out and white curls are starting to sprout from the scalp.

 

 

“I look like a _freak_.” She sniffles.

“I-its not that bad.” Dave says, sitting next to her.

“Yes it is! You look freaked out!” Jade says, scrubbing the tears from her eyes.

“I was just surprised.” Dave says. He’s too shocked to even wear the poker face. The poker face flew out the window the minute he saw Jade’s hair.

“How long has this been happening…?” you ask.

“Since grandpa disappeared.” She admits, sounding so tired and defeated. “First it was just the hair breaking off and then the dreadlocks started coming out next. I look like an old woman.”

“Its not _that_ bad…” You lie. “You could always dye it like Cronus.”

“Great. My hair’ll smell like _chemicals_.” she mutters.

“I think it looks nice.” Dave says, reassembling his poker face. “The white against the black its kind of like…the Bride of Frankenstein thing.”

Jade isn’t cheering up. “What if our kid has white hair too?”

“Then call them ‘Snowball Strider the Fucking Awesome’.” You say, exasperated, “Who in the fuck is going to mess with him? His Mom is a sharpshooter, his Dad is mean with a sword, and his Uncle is a giant troll.”

Jade wipes the tears out of her eyes and looks at you. “They. I’m having quadruplets.”

Dave spits out his apple juice. “ _What_?”

Dave’s voice goes up several octaves and the blood drains out of his face. Jade snickers and leans against her matesprit. “I’m kidding, Dave.”

“Don’t make jokes like that. _My_ hair will turn white.” Dave grumbles but hugs her close to him.

“No one will be able to tell.” You say.

“Will too.” Dave grumbles.

“It’s a girl. A _single_ girl.” Jade answers.

“Good. She’ll be the Girl Dave.” you say.

“No, she’ll be a total prima donna like Uncle Karkat.” Dave smirks.

“She’s not even related to me!” you say. 

“She’ll gain your sense of overreacting to _everything_ through osmosis.” Dave says.

“I hope Jade _does_ have quadruplets in the future.” You grumble.

“No, I can’t take that. Dave would have to immediately get a vasectomy.” Jade says.

“I’d do a vasectomy on myself. I don’t think I could handle four kids at once. I don’t think I could handle _two._ ”

“Amen to that.” You mutter.

“Karkat, you already _have_ two kids.” Jade sighs.

“I do?” You pause. “Oh yeah. Well. Fuck. At least Dirk and Jake are handling one of them.”

“Where _are_ Bro and Jake?” Dave asks.

“I think they went out to East New Jack.” Jade says.

“Go figure.” You look at Jade’s hair. “So what are we doing about this…?”

“We could braid it.” Dave suggests.

“I’ll wait for it to grow out before we do that.” Jade says, reaffixing her bandana.  

The three of you remain together and with each passing  hour, Jade smiles and talks more. She’ll never return to being the completely bubbly and carefree but who can afford to be that way these days? This is still better than it was.


End file.
